


Heart-Shaped Music

by sztikerami



Category: Dir en grey, Jrock, the GazettE (Band)
Genre: Fluff, LiveJournal Prompt, Love Confessions, M/M, Sappy, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22425466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sztikerami/pseuds/sztikerami
Summary: He wanted to tell him how much he loved him.
Relationships: Die (Dir en grey)/Reita (the GazettE)
Kudos: 3





	Heart-Shaped Music

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from the obscure_jfic community @LJ. English isn't first language. Ubeta'ed.

He wanted to tell Reita how he felt. But confessing your love is a hard task, and it's especially hard if the one you love hates sappy things, isn't cuddly, the idea of public affection gives him goosebumps and thinks that saying 'I love you' repeatedly is way too American. But eventually, Die figured out how to do it.

So here were they, settled on the couch, Reita sipping on a cup of hot coffee, Die tuning his guitar. “I composed a new song. Wanna hear it?” he asked his boyfriend casually. Reita's face lit up that instant, he loved when Die showed him his new songs. The fact that the dark-haired male was willing to share his unrecorded work with him was a proof of how seriously Die took their relationship in Reita's eyes.

“Sure. You know how much I love to hear the new Dir en grey songs before they come out.” the blonde chuckled.

Die smiled at him but shook his head. “No... this one isn't a Dir en grey song... It's too personal to be shared with the public.” he said.

Reita raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off. He motioned towards the red guitar in the elder male's hand in a silent manner of telling him he could start playing. Die nodded, took his notes out of his pocket, where he had kept them hidden and placed them on the coffee table, right beside his empty cup of coffee, and then he started. Reita could barely do anything but watch his boyfriend in awe, the cup of coffee forgotten in his hand as he was listening to the beautiful song.

Every note Die played on his red acoustic guitar was a confession of love on its own. Reita didn't like sappy confessions and big words, so the long-haired guitarist decided to tell about his feelings in a different way, expressing his love in a language more pure and honest than any other spoken in this word: music. He had composed a song for Reita, a song more beautiful than anything he had ever written.

Reita tilted his head to the side, watching the man with a soft expression on his face. Die was beautiful. The song itself was beautiful. And Reita understood, every little note, every single confession. He understood that this was their own music, something only they could hear and play. He glanced down at the tabloids for a second, and he felt like looking at a drawing of one million small stylized hearts.

The young bassist could not compose songs this beautiful. It was a pity, he thought, he wanted to make a confession on his own. So he stood up from the couch, put his cup of (now cold) coffee aside and grabbed his bass, quickly tuning it. After a few seconds he was back sitting beside Die, right in time before the song finished. After the guitarist played the final notes, Reita gave him a soft, whole-hearted and obviously happy smile. “Play it again?” he requested, and Die started playing the song again. This time Reita joined him too – he couldn't compose songs, but he could play along, together with Die, following the tabs scribbled on a piece of white paper. This was his own way to confess. And it was good enough for Die...

No, it was more than good enough. It was perfect.


End file.
